


Citrus

by VideoStarVCR



Series: MCYT  Oneshots [5]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Apocalypse, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, POV Second Person, Quarantine has been hitting me hard y'all, Sort Of, We got comfort now boys, vent fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-25
Updated: 2021-01-25
Packaged: 2021-03-17 23:22:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28982550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VideoStarVCR/pseuds/VideoStarVCR
Summary: Six months since this whole thing had started, and you finally found someone. He was around your age, older really. Though you never would have guessed. He had wandered like you, day in and day out, choosing which every path caught his curiosity. It's a miracle that you even found each other.His favorite color wasn't red. You had asked him that. His name was Tubbo. You hadn't asked that. He still told you.---Aka; Tommy and Tubbo end of world fic bc I'm a fool.
Relationships: No Romantic Relationship(s), Toby Smith | Tubbo & TommyInnit, WE DONT DO THAT
Series: MCYT  Oneshots [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2125812
Comments: 2
Kudos: 52





	Citrus

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, this is a repost of a older fic I wrote. It was my first work in the fandom. 
> 
> I've improved a lot recently, but still have a soft spot for this fic. I may rewrite it some time.

Sickeningly sweet, then bitter. Citrus.

That's what the end of the world felt like. Sickeningly sweet, then bitter.

You can remember the end of the world. The lingering feeling of *grey* that clung to you when you woke up to find no one. Empty houses, on empty streets that stretched on forever. The end of the world had happened, and somehow, in the few hours that sleep embraced you, you had been left behind.

For two months, you wandered. Your life line became a pair of two sizes too small shoes. Stealing still felt wrong, even if there was no one to pay. You wished there was. You wish so hard it hurts.

You tell that to the street's. Scream, callout to them. You plead with the cracked sidewalk as if it understands.

"You ruined me!" You shout one day, and it's true. The pavement did ruin you. It smiles back at you and you glare. 

"Why did you have to be empty?" You asked the street's one day. Shouting the question again and again until your throat pleads for mercy. They don't answer. 

It's the third month, when you finally steal something other than food. It's not new shoes, it's new laces. They're bright, a remarkably obnoxious shade of yellow, but they make you happy. The next week you steal another pair, and another.

Your too small shoes are now double laced. The same, bright yellow paired with a neon green so bright it hurt to look at. You had other laces, tied to your wrist and your arms. Pinks, and oranges, and reds.

You knew how ridiculous you looked, despite what some people might think your reflection had become a good companion in the last few months. Still, it's hard to think of the stranger that stares back at you is you. Blonde hair that desperately needed to be cut, blue eyes looking far, far too young to be so alone. Shoelaces tied to your wrists. Pinks, and oranges, and reds.

Red has always been your favorite color. You wished it was someone else's favorite. 

\---

Six months since this whole thing had started, and you finally found someone. He was around your age, older really. Though you never would have guessed. He had wandered like you, day in and day out, choosing which every path caught his curiosity. It's a miracle that you even found each other.

His favorite color wasn't red. You had asked him that. His name was Tubbo. You hadn't asked that. He still told you. 

Dark brown hair falls into his face. He pushes it away. You do nothing but stare at him as he sits there. Shivering in the cold, the light jacket he had wrapped around himself isn't nearly enough to keep the snow and ice that mocks you.

"It doesn't feel right" he tells you, and as you sit there are two sizes too small shoes with holes worn in them, shoelaces tied to your wrist. You don't really get it.

The two of you had become close in the time that you walked together, talking about what you both did before the end of the world. It's hard to talk about what you are doing now, what are you doing?

The first and last time that you guys talked, really talked, about the world that you were currently in, Toby had told you that he shouted at the house's that he'd passed. You tell him that it's weird. The irony is lost to you as you tell him about screaming at the pavement.

Now, he tells you about a movie he saw, talks about all the postcards used to collect, and the photos on each one. You, in return,tell him about all the books you've read. A part of you likes to think that, if for some reason he disappeared too, you could go back to living on shoe strings and shouting. 

You know you couldn't. So, instead, you help him break into a small roadside convenience store. It's the first shop you've seen in a while, you restock,wrap a blanket around the two of you, and sleep on the cold tiled floor. 

The next night, having left the store, you both sleep outside. It's cold, and miserable. You rummage in your bag for a moment before handing it to him. A postcard, a warm and welcoming beach printed on the front. He smiles, and tears in his eyes and he pulls something out of his pocket. 

A shoelace, red, and bright, and so incredibly thoughtful. Blonde hair falls in front of your eyes and you figure that if you're crying that's your business. 

\---

Maybe, someday, many days from now, you allow yourselves to have a warmer jacket and new shoes, but for now it's enough to live off of postcards, and shoe laces and each other.

Dully, you realize that the world isn't so citrus anymore. Not with the road under both your feet, and someone you truly care about beside you. It's nowhere near perfect, in fact it seems like an uphill battle, but still, you're no longer screaming at sidewalks. 

You tell Toby about it one day, he laughs, something you should both do more often, and for the rest of the day you debate on what word fits. 

Bittersweet is the word he comes up with. 

You agree.


End file.
